


Ransom

by AGL03



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Changing Feelings, Comfort, Drama, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fluff, Kidnapping, Ransom, academy au, roxxon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:57:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/pseuds/AGL03
Summary: Academy AU:  Fitzsimmons have just finished their last final and are awaiting their assignment.   However Jemma's family ties make her the target and she is snatched right from the Academy's grounds.   Fitz unwilling to leave her side is taken as well.   Now, they must rely on each other to get out and let their hidden feelings out in the process.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to agentcalliope, overworkedandunderwhelmed, and pi for the beta and fabulous manip!

The sun had long dipped below the horizon as two figures walked side by side across the campus. Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons had been nearly inseparable for some time now. Top of their class. And, if the rumors from the staff were to be believed, currently the most highly sought after assets ever to come out of the Academy. It was no secret that multiple teams were vying to get them on their field teams or labs. 

But for now, that was the farthest thing from either one of their minds. They had finished their last final that afternoon. They had returned the mountain of books they’d borrowed to study to the library. And as was tradition, picked up take away from all their favorite places. Jemma even indulging in a carton of Fitz’s favorite ice cream and a tray of brownies. “We’re celebrating!” she’d proclaimed adding them to the trolley “a little fun won’t kill us.”

Fitz adjusted the bags in his hands as he cursed the location of her dorm for what could be one of the last times. His was closer but hers was cleaner…and had a couch that wasn’t covered in a month’s worth of clothes.

“Do you need me to take one?” Jemma asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. 

Fitz shook his head determined to be a gentleman about it. “I’ve got it,” he insisted.

“Oh, give it here, you git.” Jemma reached over and took one of the bags, rolling her eyes. Fitz muttered a thanks as she chuckled and nudged his shoulder with her own, sending tingles up both of their arms, even with a small action. Jemma snuggled closer to chase the feeling. She’d noticed her feelings shifting for her best friend for some time now. Allowing touches to linger longer as her fingers itched to interlace with his. They had time, she assured herself as she turned her attention to the stars shining above them. In the distance, the sounds of various parties were getting underway, which would account for why they were the only people out at the moment.

They had been invited to more than a few, but neither one of them wanted to be with anyone else that night.

“We did it, Fitz,” Jemma said.

“We did.” he sighed happily. “Where do you think we go from here?”

Jemma tilted her head to the side, biting her lip in thought. “Agent Weaver refuses to tell me who has taken an interest-- though there was a lovely bunch of cupcakes on her desk when I stopped by yesterday.”

“Perhaps we can try Professor Vaughn, chat him up a bit.” Fitz suggested. “He hasn’t seen the most recent modifications to the Dwarves. That could be enough to distract him and we can slip in a few quest-“

Fitz never finished his thought as the pair were blinded by headlights that suddenly turned onto the road they were walking beside. Odd for this time of the night, the road was only used for campus transportation vehicles. The two shielded their eyes as the lights were put on bright. 

Jemma nudged Fitz farther from the road, fearing a drunk driver. Only the vehicle skidded to a halt next to them, the doors to the van sliding open and five masked men spilling out. 

“The girl!” one shouted as he pointed at Jemma.

Fitz felt Jemma freeze next to him and in the same moment the blood in his veins turned to ice. The shock only lasting for a moment as he dropped the bags to the ground and pulled Jemma behind him. 

“Get away from us!” He shouted. 

The men didn’t listen. Converging on the pair and grabbing the young cadets, ripping Jemma from Fitz’s protective grasp.

“No, Fitz! Help!” Jemma cried as they began to pull her towards the open door. 

“Jemma!” Fitz screamed fighting the hands restraining him with everything he had.  
One of the thugs twisted his arm to subdue him. 

“Give it up kid, we just want the girl. Stop fighting and we won’t have to hurt you.” 

Fitz may have failed his field assessments, but he had a bit of self defense training and a fair amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Especially the sight of Jemma being thrown into the darkness, her terrified cries echoing into the night. 

“Not a bloody chance.” He hissed, throwing his head back and earning a satisfying crack from the one who had been trying to hold him. 

Feeling the grip slacken on his arms, Fitz made a break for the van.

“Go!” the goon holding Jemma inside ordered seeing Fitz running for them. Their friend apparently deemed an acceptable loss.

Fitz got a good look at the terror in her eyes and without second thought leapt into the back of the van as the door was being shut, letting out a cry of his own as his foot got in the way. Pain shot up his leg, leaving little doubt that something had broken.

Trying to ignore the pain, he reached and tried to pull Jemma towards the door that had swung back open. The van wasn’t going too fast yet, they would have some bumps and bruises but would be out. The sounds of sirens and the flash of red lights suggested that campus security was closing in. 

“We don’t have time dammit! Just bring him!” the driver called back, the anger in his voice apparent.

The goons easily hauled him back and the door slid shut with an ominous click. The man holding Jemma released her now that it was secure. She wasted no time crawling across the floor to Fitz’s arms as he backed to the opposite side of the vehicle. He wrapped her up in his own arms trying to fathom why someone would take her. 

“What do you want?” Fitz demanded trying and failing to keep the waiver out of his voice.

The leader laughed fixing his gaze on Jemma, the look in the man’s eyes causing Fitz to pull her too him even tighter. “Nothing much. Sweet Jemma here is just a bit of…incentive….in a business transaction.” 

“My father,” Jemma whispered. “You’re after my father.”

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The ride had lasted for hours and by the time they’d arrived at their destination the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon.

As they were pulled from the car Jemma had Fitz leaning on her, his injured foot unable to bear weight. She hoped to get a proper look at it once they were left alone for a bit, because everytime she tried to talk to him or see his foot the goon who had taken her growled and told them to shut up.

They were led into a old yet fine country manor. The overgrown grounds and layers of dust betrayed that it had been empty for quite some time. All the furniture had been left, simply covered by tarps and grime.

It was once they were inside that Jemma was forcefully pulled away again. Fitz began to shout as he was shoved into one of the dusty chairs with heavy hands on his shoulders to keep him in place and Jemma herself led to the sofa.

The leader handed her the day's newspaper and pulled out what both assumed was a burner cell phone. “Okay, Miss Simmons, look here for me.”

“Doctor. It’s Doctor Simmons.” Jemma lashed out without thinking. The man stared at her and she froze, not wanting to give away her fear. But then Fitz, poor Fitz, laughed which turned into a sharp groan. Jemma swiveled her gaze to him just to see his head turned to the side, a red hand print already forming on his cheek. Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart began to pound faster .

The leader followed her gaze and a smile curled on his lips. “Miss Simmons, I suggest you follow my instructions to the letter. It would be a shame for your ‘White Knight’ there to get hurt more than he has already in his chivalrous yet ill-fated attempts to protect you.”

Jemma couldn’t stop the tears that welled in her eyes as she looked at the phone dead on.

“Tears even, how wonderful,” the leader snickered turning his attention to Fitz. “I must thank you, my dear boy, you are a most excellent means of keeping your Princess in line.”

Fitz merely glared back, his cheek stinging and his ankle throbbing, knowing that now was not the time or the place to let his temper get the better of him. He needed their captors thinking they were scared, weak, and defenseless right now. 

“And what about you, fair Prince?” the leader once again mocked, walking over to Fitz and grabbing his curls roughly. “I’ve been watching you for weeks now. I know you are never far from her side-- are your fathers’ friends? Spend time at the Club together? Or is he some brainiac like you, sending his precious baby boy to the best school’s money can buy?”

“Stop.” Jemma croaked. “It’s me you wanted and it’s me you have. Leave him alone.” She pleaded as she rose, letting the paper to slip to the floor. FItz’s father was a testy subject with him at the best of times. 

The leader shot her a warning look and Fitz cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, looking at the man directly in the eye, as best he could. “Sorry to disappoint you but it was just me and my mum. Is that what this is all about then? Money? You’re terrorizing us for money?”

The leader didn’t answer instead motioning his men into action. “Get them out of here, I have a call to make.” 

Jemma moved swiftly, getting to Fitz’s side before anyone else could get their ruddy hands on him. “You don’t have to do this! Please just let us go now,” she tried, even as someone grabbed her free arm and tugged them both towards the basement.

The last thing she could hear was one side of the conversation in the living room. “Mrs. Hudson, is it? I do understand Mr. Simmons is a very busy man but I’m calling in regards to the continued health and safety of his lovely daughter, Jemma…and I assure you he will want to talk to me.”

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They were led to the basement, which was as dark and dingy as the rest of the house if not more. There was a room in the center that as soon as the door opened Jemma knew it was meant to be her prison. A single bed in the corner, pile of ratty books, and an open doorway that contained a sink and toilet. 

A not so gentle push on the small of her back forced Jemma through the threshold and Fitz followed. Jemma eased him to the bed, turning to the door to ask for a first aid kit. Their escort didn’t give her a chance. Shoving a bag of food into her hands before slamming and locking the door, engaging multiple bolts before he left. 

“Jem?” Fitz called from the bed, showing signs of wanting to get up and come over to comfort her. 

Jemma was faster, pushing him back down onto the bed and kneeling on the filthy floor to pull his shoe off. “Let me see that foot,” she ordered in a tone that Fitz knew better than to argue with.

But that didn’t stop him from trying. “Jem, that can wait,” he began, seeing a tear drip from her face even though she tried to hide it “Jemma!” he started again, this time using more force in his own voice. 

That was enough to get her to stop. Unless they were having a spirited discussion in the lab he seldom used that tone with her. She looked up, the tears falling down her face and Fitz could tell she was trying to pull herself together. Trying to be strong.

But she doesn’t have to be strong alone.

“Come here,” Fitz said opening his arms to her. She looked at him with a trembling lip before collapsing into his arms. He wrapped her up as he’d done in the van wishing he could just hide her away from all of this. “It’s okay, we’ll figure a way out of this, together, just like we always do.”

Jemma held him closer. “You got hurt because of me,” she whimpered. 

“If I do recall correctly, I was the one who jumped into the kidnapper’s van and didn’t get my foot out of the way in time,” Fitz countered.

“They will hurt you if I don’t do what they say,” she whispered and then pulled away. “They are already hurting my family…they kidnapped you because of me…I couldn’t bear if they….”

Fitz shushed her and wiped the tears away giving her the best smile he could muster. “They won’t,” he said, and hoped he wasn’t lying.

“They already did,” Jemma said pulling away and going for his shoe again. This time he let her, his foot throbbing painfully.. 

Jemma tried to be gentle but with the amount of swelling it was impossible to do so. Fitz yelped in pain more than once as she worked the sneaker and sock off. “Oh Fitz,” she breathed looking at purple and swollen appendage. 

“Hurts like hell,” he said through gritted teeth and looking up at the ceiling, not wanting to see the damage first hand.

Jemma pulled the ratty comforter back to reveal a set of thin sheets. Muttering to herself, she began easily tearing the threat bare fabric into long strips. The most she would be able to do for now would be wrap it. She made note to try again for a first aid kit and pain killers the next time someone checked on them.

She muttered apologies with every noise of discomfort before she was done. Helping him sit back against the headboard she finally turned her attention to the food. It wasn’t near the feast they had purchased for themselves to enjoy what seem like ages ago now; stale bread, cheese, water, a few packs of crisps, and an apple.

Jemma prepared a small meal for them and settled on the narrow bed next to him, Forcing herself to eat and keep her strength up, and forcing him to eat too. 

“What happens next?” Fitz asked after a few minutes of silence. 

Jemma sighed. Fitz knew who her father was. Knew that Jemma had grown up with this kind of threat hanging over her head. Though, since joining Shield, she had honestly thought the danger would come because of somewhere else.

“They’ll make their demands, and the crisis team will go into action with my father,” Jemma said calmly. “There are contingencies in place, procedures to follow…even an insurance policy. It just depends on how much they want and if it’s really about money.”

Fitz chewed thoughtfully. “Shield?” 

He knew they were valuable assets to the organization, and as such their abduction would warrant some sort of action from Agent Weaver. 

“I know the lawyers worked out some sort of arrangement should I be abducted from the field. Though it again comes down to what these men want. There seems to be no interest in Shield, our minds, or any of our work. They wanted Jemma Simmons, only daughter of the Vice President of Roxxan’s R&D Division. Not Doctor Doctor Jemma Simmons, top of her class Cadet of Shield. You are just collateral damage.”

Fitz nudged her shoulder and took her hand in his own. “Well, if I was going to be collateral damage I’m glad it’s for you.,” he said with a ghost of a smile.

Jemma squeezed his hand in thanks and snuggled against his chest. “Thank you for being my White Knight,” she said. Noting that one of the books left for them was Camelot. Their captor seemed to have a flare for Arthurian lore and he was there very own Mordred. 

“Always my Princess,” Fitz said with a smirk as he hugged her just a little bit tighter. There she felt safe surrounded by his smell, his heartbeat, and his warmth. The combination of each other's presence and the trauma of the day began to lull them to sleep. 

As they slipped off to sleep Jemma murmured "Even though the princess can save herself, you know." 

Fitz grinned. "Yeah. I know. I think the Knight knows that too."

"Good."

"Get some rest, Jemma."

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Fitz was first to wake hours later, the pain of his throbbing foot finally beating the exhaustion out. For a few blissful seconds he had forgotten where he was and what happened. Only aware of Jemma curled up on his chest, their fingers still interlaced, and the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo filling his nose. 

He brought his free arm up to look at his watch, finding the device gone, and then the recent events came rushing back. It hit Fitz like a bucket of ice water that they weren’t in her room, asleep on her bed after a night of movies and take away. They were locked away in a basement by a group of kidnappers hoping for a pay day from Jemma’s father. His watch, their phones, and even Jemma’s jewelry all taken from them in the van the night before. 

Carefully he lowered his arm back now as to not disturb Jemma. She was sleeping and felt safe and he wanted to keep her that way as long as he could. 

Sadly, their host had other plans. Not ten minutes later did the locks on the door start click. ‘Mordred’ as Jemma had dubbed him striding in with a satisfied smirk on his face and polaroid camera in his hands. With a chuckle he snapped a picture of the blurry eyed cadets. 

Jemma pulled herself up and tried to block Fitz’s body with her own. Completely ignoring his quiet protest. Though she continued to clutch his hand. Unwilling to give up that lifeline. 

“What now?” Jemma demanded.

“Come on Princess,” the leader purred, his features devilish in the dimmed light. “You know how this all works-- you know what the crisis team has demanded next in the negotiations. Solid physical proof we have you, and that you’re alive.”

Fitz felt Jemma’s grip tighten on his hand. Physical proof could be anything from a lock of hair to get DNA from to a severed finger. And despite his own pain, he moved. Pulling himself up to her side and placing himself firmly between her and the kidnapper. 

“Ever the protector,” Mordred sneered waiving his men in. Neither Fitz or Simmons able to move fast enough they seized them and ripped them apart once more. The one holding Fitz producing a knife to hold at his throat and keep him still.

“Don’t touch her!” Fitz hissed.

“Don’t hurt him!” Jemma cried in the same instant as she pulled at the arms that held her. 

The kidnappers all laughed in delight before Mordred advanced on Jemma with a knife of his own. Slowly running the blade up her arm, along her neck, and up her face to the corner of her eye were he added the slightest bit of pressure until a droplet of blood ran down her face.

Jemma couldn’t help herself and a whimper escaped her lips and she blinked rapidly, trying to stall the tears. . Fitz held his breath a few feet away, though his own tears of frustration ran freely. 

“What kind of proof shall we send?” Mordred asked, his disgusting lips right against her ear. “A beautiful brown eye?I’m told you get them from your mother. A finger? A tooth? This blade coated in your blood? That sharp tongue of yours?”

“Please stop!” Fitz cried out, unable to stand seeing the terror growing on Jemma’s face. 

Mordred ignored him as the hand not holding the knife slipped up into her hair and cut a lock of it Jemma jumped but contained the small cry. “I play nice with the first round, but know I will tire of these games and next time, I draw blood.” 

He backed away as he put the hairs into a bag with the photo he’d taken of the pair when he came in. “They have twenty four hours,” he said as he left. His men releasing the captives and departed as well, one tossing in another bag of food before the door was locked again. 

Jemma stood frozen in the middle of the room. Her heart racing and skin crawling from the experience. 

Fitz hobbled over as fast as his injury would allow. “You’re okay,” he said his own voice betraying his fears. 

Jemma nodded numbly and pulled him back to the bed not wanting him to put more weight than necessary onto his foot. She sat them down but made no effort to leave his arms. 

There they stayed simply holding each other, waiting for their hearts to stop racing. Fitz again was the first to move. Gently tipping her chin up so he could get a proper look at her face. His eyes bore into hers and Jemma felt a sudden rush of emotions at all they were trying to convey. 

Fitz’s fingers followed the path the blade had taken before gently wiping away the drying blood from her face. That done he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to where the blade had bitten into her skin. A warmth filling her from head to toe as she let out a contented sigh. 

“Better?” he asked as he pulled away. 

Jemma could only nod as her eyes traveled to his lips for a moment, her heart aching to capture them with her own. The only thing that stopped her was the sudden rumble from both of their stomachs.

Fitz blushed as the moment was broken and Jemma let out a small laugh. “Let’s see what kind of meal our captors have provided us with this morning, shall we?”

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Even without a clock the hours passed, and the pair somehow passed it easily. Jemma read Camelot aloud, treated Fitz’s foot best she could, and they discussed their projects both present and future. Over lunch Fitz animatedly told her about his idea for a “Night Night Gun”. A non lethal weapon that could be used in the field rather than the real thing, and eliminate the need to kill people. 

“We aren’t going to call it that,” Jemma chastised as she cleaned up the meager meal.

Fitz opened his mouth to argue when they were both taken by surprise as the door opened once more. They had just been fed and had both assumed that they would be left alone until dinner. 

Jemma tensed, remembering the Mordred’s threat from earlier. “If you are going to make it in Shield you need to do better about hiding your fear, Princess,” the leader said and as they had done earlier, his men grabbing them both. Jemma was pulled away from Fitz towards the other side of the room. 

“Besides, you can relax. It’s your Knight’s turn now,” he added, the knife again appearing in his hands.

Fitz tried to pull back. “But my mum doesn’t have any money,” he started. He knew his mother would be beside herself with him missing, but being asked to pay to get him back with money she didn’t have would be devastating. 

“You would be amazed at the lengths a parent will go to keep their child safe,” Mordred countered pulling at Fitz’s curls as he’d done to Jemma. He pulled out the camera next, “Now look here, I need to see those baby blues.”

Fitz scowled as the flash went off.

“Even better,” the leader teased, pleased as the photo developed. 

Fitz tried to pull his arm away in his anger and while he succeeded in getting his arm free he lost he precarious balance and the goon holding him was forced to dive to catch Fitz before he hit the floor. 

Jemma feared the leader would hurt Fitz for the defiance and was grateful when he was more amused than angry. “And you, boy, need to learn not to be a hero,” he threw back at Fitz, putting the pictures and hairs into an envelope. Mordred left without giving them a second glance and his men followed like the loyal dogs they were.

“Fitz!,” Jemma cried, running to him as soon as she was free. His head was bowed in what she feared was defeat. “Oh Fitz,” she tried this time hugging him. Guilt swelled that the thought of putting his mother through this, too. 

It took a moment for Jemma to realize that Fitz was laughing and not crying. She pulled back to regard him with a curious look. 

His eyes glittered as he held up his hand, holding a small cell phone. “I need to ‘learn that I’m not the hero’? Well, they need to learn not to underestimate us,” he said cheekily. 

Jemma beamed and embraced him in a tight hug before kissing his cheek without a second thought. Missing the blush that flushed across his cheeks in her excitement. “You’re a genius!” she cheered “who should we call first? Our parents or Agent Weaver?”

“Neither,” Fitz said quickly composing himself as he sat back down with a wince. 

Jemma immediately set on getting him situated again. “It’s only a matter of time before he realizes it’s gone and come looking. If we make a call or send a text they might see it and…” Fitz trailed off not waiting to voice what sort of punishment would be implemented in a blatant escape attempt.

“If I can get a bit of metal I think I might be able to send out a message via morse code on one of the emergency frequencies. Since we have no idea where we actually are, it will give them something to trace,” Fitz added as he carefully pried the back off the device.

“I can’t believe we’re actually going to use one like this,” Jemma muttered reaching up and pulling a bobby pin from her hair.

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“Where is it?!”

Fitz and Simmons heads snapping to the door as it was nearly kicked open. Mordred thundered inside, red faced and seething. As they were most times when their captor arrived, they were snuggled onto the small bed, Jemma’s head pillowed on Fitz’s chest and their interlaced fingers resting on his stomach.

“We don’t know what you are talking about!” Jemma said moving even closer to Fitz although she was already pressed against him. 

Mordred didn’t listen and crossed the room in a few easy steps, first grabbing Jemma roughly turning out all her pockets. Completely ignoring the cries of distress at that action. When he came up empty he threw her aside and moved onto Fitz who received the same rough treatment. He ripped through Jemma’s carefully wrapped bandages,making sure there was nothing hidden there. Fitz was unable to contain the cry of pain as he was pulled to standing, his foot turning painfully before he was thrown aside as well. 

The bed was torn apart down to the frame and when he pulled up the mattress he found  
the device just under the bed. 

“You little wretches!” he screamed, picking it up and turning it on to see who they had called. Heaving a visual sigh when he saw no calls or texts had gone out, the leader murderously glanced at them. 

“We didn’t even know it was there,” Fitz snapped unable to get himself standing and remained huddled on the floor with Jemma. “Do you honestly think we would have stolen something like that and just set it under the bed! We are bloody geniuses. If we wanted to hide it from you we would’ve!” 

“Jacobs!” The leader barked, giving them a real name for the first time. 

Jacobs came in looking ill himself, eyes going wide when he saw the device. “Sorry, Sir, it must have fallen out when I caught him earlier.”

“We’ll continue this upstairs,” Mordred growled as Jacobs scurried away. His attention turned back to his captives. “You are very lucky you didn’t find it and do something foolish…the consequences wouldn’t have been pleasant, and I would be forced to split you up for the remainder of your stay with us.”

His final comment perked them both up.

“Remainder?” Jemma asked relieved and sick all at the same moment at the thought of an agreement being struck. In all honesty it was now a simple matter of waiting for the exchange or to see if their message was heard.

“I’m a man of my word, Miss Simmons. Your father has agreed to my terms, and I will return you to him as promised.”

Jemma felt her heart skip a beat, “And Fitz?”

The cruel smile returned. “His fate is still being discussed by the concerned parties, and until we can reach an agreement he will remain my guest.” 

Fitz was stunned into silence, his eyes wide and heart sick to think this man was trying to negotiate with his mother or even Shield. It was Jemma who found her voice first. “I’m not going anywhere without Fitz,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster.

“You don’t have a choice, girl.” the leader snapped back getting ready to depart. “Your father struck a deal for you and you alone-“

“Who are you talking with? Shield? His mother? Because I assure you, my father will pay whatever your horrid ransom is for Fitz too!” Jemma shouted moving after her captor. “Let me call him, talk to him on your behalf.”

“Negotiations have been closed for you Princess, I will be back to collect you so we can proceed to the exchange. We didn’t want him, and he forced our hand into bringing him as well. This is on him. I suggest you say your goodbyes,” he spit at her coldly and the door was latched once more. 

Jemma was numb as she slipped back into Fitz’s arms, tears running anew. “I’m sorry,  
I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,” she cried into his chest. 

It took Fitz a moment to collect himself but he hugged her tighter. “It’s not your fault, I would do it again in a heartbeat,” he assured. “We’ve called for help, they will get here in time.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then you will go without me,” Fitz said placing a finger to her lips to silence the protests he knew were coming. “You will go without me,” he said again this time with a firmer tone. “I would never forgive myself is something happened to you because you stayed…if you try to stay. Besides, once you are out you can help Agent Weaver come find me.”

Jemma sat up and took his face in her hands, her fingers running along the stubble now growing on his cheeks, while her eyes locked with his. “You promise me that no matter what happens, you will come back to me.”

Fitz met her gaze his own hands slipping around her waist and he pulled her just a bit closer. “Always, I will always come back to you,” he vowed. 

Jemma offered a small smile, “And I will always come back to you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper pressing her forehead to his.

Fitz studied her intently for a few more moments before he applied a hint of pressure to her back and the distance between their lips closed, meeting in a tender embrace. A spark of hope in the darkness that surrounded them.

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Jemma had put the bed back together and wrapped Fitz’s foot back up. Fearful this would be the last time she would be able to do it before they were separated, she made sure to wrap it up the best she could. A meal had been delivered, but neither one had any appetite. The bag still sitting untouched on the floor where it had been thrown in. Opting to spend the time simply holding each other and trading the occasional kiss, they waited and waited and waited. 

They had no concept of time, no windows and no clocks had robbed them of it. Yet the feeling that every second mattered hung in the air. 

A crash on the floors above startled them both. The crash was quickly followed by shouting and gun shots.

“Shield,” Fitz said, relieved. Their message had been received or someone had found a way of tracking them. 

Jemma scrambled out of the bed and turned to pull Fitz up as well. They knew they needed to be ready to move when the extraction team got in. 

There were heavy boots coming down the stars and the locks being worked. They stood united and side by side, bracing for whatever came through that door, together. Fitz felt a bolt of panic, a Shield team wouldn’t have known exactly where they were and would have descended the staircase with a lot more stealth. 

The door opened and the leader ran in, he had a gunshot wound bleeding freely on his shoulder and cuts littered his face. As if he’d been by a window when it was blown out. 

“Freeze!” a voice shouted from the hall. 

Mordred didn’t listen and ran to his captives, “I have come too far to get caught now,” he screamed. Fitz and Simmons unsure if that was directed at them or the pursing agent, either way it didn’t matter as they both backed into the wall. 

“Move kid, I need a ticket out of here and she’s it,” he hissed making a grab for Jemma.  
Fitz slapping his hand away, cursing his injured foot that prevented them from making a break for it yet still managed to step between Mordred and Jemma. “Piss off,” he hissed. 

A suit clad agent appeared in the door, he was older and had thinning hair. Most definitely not your typical Operations agent. “Mr. Costa,” he started as he came in stopping when he saw the cornered cadets. “My name is Agent Coulson and I’m with Shield. It’s over, Mr. Costa,Please just surrender peacefully, and no one else needs to get hurt.”

Mordred--Costa-- let out a feral cry and punched Fitz hard across the face, sending him flying into the wall then floor where he lay not moving. 

“Fitz!” Jemma screamed moving to get to his side. Only to cry out herself as Costa grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to him. One arm securing her to his chest while the other pushed a gun to her temple. 

“Drop the gun Agent Coulson!” Costa snapped, pressing the gun so hard it forced Jemma to cry out. “I swear I will kill her if you don’t comply!”

Coulson tried to shoot her a reassuring look as he held his hands out. “No one else needs to get hurt,” Coulson said in a steady voice. As he spoke he slowly lowered himself to the ground and placed his weapon well out of his own reach. 

“I want a car!” Costa snapped.

“Whatever you like,” Coulson agreed. “Would you like a compact or SUV?” 

Jemma shot him an incredulous look even as her hands pulled at the arm across her chest. The comment seemed to throw her captor for a moment. “I don’t care.” he said trying to recover. 

Coulson merely nodded slowly, pressing his comm. “I need a vehicle out front, running, keys in the ignition,” he said calmly as if he was calling a taxi. “All agents are to fall back to one hundred yards from the house.”

Taking his finger off the comm Coulson raised his hand back up and looked at Costa, “You can release her now.” 

Costa responded by pulling her closer to him, “And have one of your snipers take me out the second I’m in their sites? Ha! I don’t think so! She’s is going to come with me!”

“Okay, how about a trade then?” Coulson said catching sight of Fitz beginning to move once more. “Me for her. I am much more valuable a hostage than a lowly Sci Tech Cadet.” 

Costa laughed “I beg to differ, Agent Coulson-- after all she is valuable to far more than Shield…unless you happen to have a vastly wealthy father and access to a major corporations R&D department.” 

Coulson shrugged, “I unfortunately don’t, but I can offer a rather impressive collection of Shield memorabilia and smooth Jazz. And you did forget one other thing that she has that I don’t,” a small smile crossed the agents lips. 

“What is that?” Costa asked ready to get the hell out of there. 

“Me!”

Costa turned just in time to be met with Fitz’s fist driving into his eye. Jemma in motion a second later, twisting just enough to drive her elbow into his stomach and her heel into his knee. The man stumbled back as Fitz pulled Jemma away, Coulson moving faster than either cadet would have expected him to and scooped up his discarded weapon while placing himself between Fitz and Simmons. 

“Now!” he shouted into his comms.

At Coulson’s signal, ops agents poured into the room, all shouting at Costa to freeze while Coulson himself ushered Fitz and Simmons away, slinging Fitz’s arm over his shoulder to help him move better. “Packages are secure, we need medical ready,” he called leading them up the stairs as fast as Fitz’s condition would allow. 

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The next few hours passed in nothing less than a blur. Medical was waiting for them as they left the house. The moon high and the area flooded by the lights of at least twenty vehicles. Coulson took them right to a Medical truck, the agents there treating Fitz’s injuries as they drove. 

Coulson gently asked them questions about the ordeal while he assured them both that their families were okay and in route to reunite with them at the academy. 

By the time they arrived both were barely awake. The combination of drugs, ordeal, and adrenaline wearing off threatening to swallow them up. They were so tired they made no effort to hide how they held each other, even in front of a senior Agent like Coulson who could easily report them for Section 17. 

“You did well,” Coulson praised as he finished asking them the required questions. “I must say using the phone to broadcast a distress signal…not using a call or text to be caught with….was quite genius.”

“Thank you, Sir,” they said in unison and Coulson raised an amused eyebrow. Perhaps some of the rumors he had heard about them were true. 

“What now?” Jemma asked quietly.

“You will need to be formally debriefed by Agent Weaver, as she is your commanding officer. However, I expect that can wait until you have been reunited with your families and had a proper rest. I understand that Mrs. Fitz was quite adamant on the matter,” Coulson said.

Fitz’s head shot up, “My Mum, is she okay? What did they ask of her?”

Coulson looked at him confused, “I’m sorry I don’t understand Cadet Fitz, the only demands made were in regards to Cadet Simmons. Your mother nor Shield was contacted with demands for your return. In fact we only knew you had been taken as well due to security footage of the incident. And to answer your question, your mother is very relieved you are okay and I wouldn’t count on leaving her sight anytime soon.”

Fitz was about to press further, as Costa had definitely said that demands had been made of someone for him. Now, according to Coulson, no demands had been made. 

But the door opened to reveal a harried yet relieved Agent Weaver.

“Thank goodness you are okay,” she said ushering them out and into the medical building. “Your parents are on their way and will be here by morning. Until then we have prepared a private room for the two of you. I understand the field team treated your injuries but we would like to keep you overnight for observation and a series of basic fluids and antibiotics…”

Fitz and Simmons followed dutifully, behind. Jemma sparing a glance back, “Thank you Agent Coulson,” she said. Fitz following with a small smile and nod before they both disappeared with the mentor. 

Coulson offered a warm smile, and hoped that he would be seeing them again soon. 

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Despite the fact the field team had checked them over, Agent Weaver insisted on doing it herself, and once she had left Jemma did the same. Inspecting the wrappings and forcing Fitz to go through the concussion tests one last time, just to be safe. 

Only once she was satisfied he was as well as could be expected did she put his chart back at the end of his bed, and move to join him. A bed had been done up for her but Jemma had no intention of getting in it. Not when Fitz was right there, and she longed for the feeling of love and security only his arms offered. 

“Come here,” Fitz said when he decided that she was taking too long. He himself wanted his own assurances that she was okay.

Jemma didn’t need anymore encouragement and slipped under the covers. Realizing with a start as she settled in that someone had gotten into Fitz’s dorm and brought the blanket his mother had made him that usually resided on the end of his bed. 

“Hi,” she said curling next to him, his hand coming up to gently cup her face.

“Hi,” he said back and leaned over, tenderly kissing the small bruise already forming on her temple from where the barrel of the gun had been pressed. 

Jemma let out a sigh of contentment and leaned into his lips even more. Tilting her head up when she felt his lips pull away and captured his lips with her own before he could get away. 

Fitz responded eagerly and with more fervor than they had back in their prison as they finally let go of the fear of the ordeal. Only when the need for air and effects of the drugs became too great did they pull away, once again resting their foreheads against one another’s.

Fitz placed one last chaste kiss to her lips before settling back into the mountain of pillows, opening his arms to her so she could settle against his chest. Pulling his blanket over her after she had settled.

“I know you didn’t need me to rescue you but I’m glad I was there with you. I can’t imagine what it would have been like being left behind,” Fitz said as he voiced the fear that had festered since the moment she was pulled away.

“I’m glad you were there...glad you were here. No matter what a Princess will always want her Knight by her side.”

Darkness was beginning to close in, Fitz offering one last sleepy though. “Who do you suppose they were negotiating with for me, if it wasn’t my Mum or Shield?”

Jemma’s eyes wanted to stay open but she could no longer fight, “We’ll make sure they look into it. I’m sure Agent Coulson just hadn’t heard of the demands, Costa did make them awfully late in our captivity…” she trailed off. Fitz only able to make a small grunt in agreement before he followed.

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Hundreds of miles away in an unknown but secure location, one Doctor Holden Radcliffe sat at his desk A glass of scotch in his left hand was a small attempt to calm his nerves. His other hand clutched a burner cell phone, one he prayed would ring. 

It had been six hours since the demands had been made and an envelope dropped on his desk. Delivered by an unknown messenger, delivered to him. The photo inside nearly making him sick as he looked at a pair of familiar blue eyes. There were some hairs as well, proof for DNA, but Radcliffe hadn’t needed it. He would know his son anywhere…no matter how many years it had been. 

He had followed the instructions to the letter, the requested prototypes and money in two silver cases beside his desk, ready to move. But the abductors hadn’t called when they had promised. 

The door to his office slid open and his assistant came in, a single sheet of white paper folded in her hands. Radcliffe snatched it away greedily, the Shield logo across the top, and a simple phrase written. 

He’s home and safe.

Radcliffe felt tears spring to his eyes as he slumped back in relief. He dismissed AIDA without a second thought and threw back the scotch. With a few easy clicks he was into the Security system of the Academy, something he had done when Leo started school. He worked through the cameras until he found what he wanted, the visual confirmation his son was safe. 

Leo was in bed, Radcliffe sparing a quick glance at the monitors to see his vitals, and then glancing back to notice Jemma securely wrapped up in his arms and both sleeping. Changing the feed to make sure there were armed guards outside their door, he moved the video back and settled into his chair. 

Content to watch them sleep until morning. 

End


End file.
